Clothes Make the Man
by Lys ap Adin
Summary: Yamamoto wears the rumpled look surprisingly well. Smut, Gokudera x Yamamoto.


**Title:** Clothes Make the Man**  
Characters/Pairings:** Gokudera/Yamamoto**  
Summary:** Yamamoto wears the rumpled look surprisingly well.**  
Notes:** Adult! Smut for Porn Battle IX, prompt: Gokudera/Yamamoto, stylish, necktie. 1089 words, a Gokudera who knows what he wants for once.

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**Clothes Make the Man**

There is something about Takeshi, yet another one of his multitude of sins, that renders him incapable of wearing a suit properly. It drives Hayato _insane_. No matter how neat Takeshi's suit starts out first thing in the morning, no matter how properly Takeshi's tie is knotted or how precisely the stylish lines of his suits lie, it's inevitable that by the time they hit midmorning, Takeshi's tie will be hanging loose around his neck and his shirt will be untucked and everything else he wears with be vaguely rumpled. One time--and this still gives Hayato nightmares--Takeshi had even gone so far as to roll up the sleeves of his shirt and jacket, just because they'd gotten in his way. And then he'd just blinked at Hayato's lecture about the things one did not do to an Armani suit, and said, "But they were in my way. And it's just a suit, geez."

Hayato maintains that he was fully justified in snapping a bomb at Takeshi for that indignity. It wasn't like Takeshi let it connect, and anyway, the suit had probably been a lost cause, no matter how carefully it was steamed and pressed to get the wrinkles out.

The thing that _really_ gets to Hayato, though, is how good Takeshi makes disheveled look. He should just look _sloppy_, but there's something about the way Takeshi carries himself, some knack in the easy way he has of holding his shoulders and some looseness in the slouch of his spine that brings it all together. Instead of looking like the slob he really is--and Hayato should know!--he looks like a walking invitation to debauchery.

Or maybe it's just Hayato who looks at the rumple of Takeshi's suits and reads the movements of Takeshi's body through the day in the creases and the wrinkles of it. He knows, or can guess, how they got there. They come from the way Takeshi lounges in a chair, reading a report and drinking his coffee, and the way his shirt comes untucked as he stretches, long and luxurious, and how he fingers the knot in his tie unconsciously, tugging it loose. And Hayato knows, too, how easy it would be to push that untucked shirt up to see the smoothness of Takeshi's stomach over a truly disgustingly toned set of muscles. Hell, if a person were going to go that far, he might as well go the rest of the way and undo Takeshi's fly to draw his cock out, because there's just something about the casual unthinking disarray of the way Takeshi wears his suits that suggests blowjobs sandwiched between meetings. Hayato suspects that the secret's in the way the sharp lines of Takeshi's slacks frame the narrowness of his hips and the muscles in his thighs. Or possibly it's that Hayato can picture how Takeshi would look sprawled against his desk, with his feet planted wide and his cock jutting out of his slacks, hard and flushed against the crisp whiteness of his shirt.

The worst part--the absolute worst part--is that Takeshi's an idiot, and he doesn't even realize what it is he looks like, or what it is that he's done to Hayato whenever Hayato finally snaps and takes action. And Hayato's no saint; he _always_ snaps sooner or later. He's almost even made his peace with that.

"Huh...?" Takeshi says this time, when Hayato growls and drops the stack of files he'd been reviewing to go throw the lock on the door. "Something wrong...?"

"Oh, shut up," Hayato tells him, and grabs Takeshi's tie--silky between his fingers; it's a shame about the wrinkles and what Hayato's pretty sure is a stain, but at least he doesn't have to feel bad about the damage he's doing to it on top of that--like a leash, hauling Takeshi out of his seat and pressing him back against the desk.

Takeshi's hands come up, probably automatically, as he does, and close on Hayato's shoulders. He laughs, soft and clueless, and starts to say something. Hayato forestalls him by kissing him, hard and deep, and Takeshi hums against his mouth in response, kissing back, clearly willing enough to go along with things despite his confusion. Then he makes a surprised sound when Hayato reaches between them and starts undoing his belt and fly. "The meeting...?" he says, and then gasps as Hayato gets his fingers inside the fly of his pants and finds his cock.

"We've got time," Hayato says, and sinks down Takeshi's body.

Takeshi's cock is still filling when he gets his mouth around it, and Takeshi groans above him, sudden and disbelieving as his body shudders in response to the first touch of Hayato's mouth. Hayato strokes his mouth over Takeshi, coaxing, and the feel of Takeshi's cock swelling and hardening in his mouth is satisfying. So is the way that Takeshi groans as Hayato sucks hard, tongue working over the head of him, swirling over the smoothness of his skin. Takeshi sags against the edge of the desk, hands gripping the edge of it as he moans Hayato's name like a desperate man utters a prayer. Hayato hums around him, pleased, and wraps his fingers around Takeshi's shaft, stroking him as he moves his mouth over Takeshi's head, fast and purposeful. Takeshi gasps at that, and Hayato can feel the tremors running through him. He lets his mouth turn harder, and that does it; Takeshi comes hard, nearly shouting with it, as his hips jerk against Hayato's fist and mouth.

Hayato laps at him until he stills. When Takeshi finally slumps against the desk, he tucks Takeshi away again and does up his slacks. Takeshi watches him do it, eyes dazed. It takes him a couple of false starts and clearing his throat to manage a coherent response. "God," he says, voice rough and low, and then "You want...?" with a vaguely suggestive little gesture to illustrate the point.

Hayato rises and shakes his slacks out, resettling them before adjusting his cuffs and tie. "It's five till," he says, after checking the time. "We need to get going."

"But..." Takeshi says, looking a little lost as Hayato retrieves his stack of files.

"You'll be returning the favor after the meeting," Hayato tells him, businesslike and crisp, and pretends not to notice the way Takeshi's eyes go hot at that.

There, he thinks, striding toward the door. Now neither of them will have to be bored during the endless wrangling over the budget.

**- end -**

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